


h

by unwriteable



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: I dont know how to write, also stanley is selectively mute in this, i cant think of a title so uh yea, pleasw forgive me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwriteable/pseuds/unwriteable
Summary: stanley asks for a new ending and it all goes downhill from there





	h

**Author's Note:**

> ive never posted any of my writing anywhere so whoopee. sorry the title and stuff isnt very serious this is just the only way i could get myself to actually post this. also i didnt proofread it at all so im just...sorry. updates will be slow but they will happen i promise

Stanley was tired. He sat slumped over in the chair in his office, head resting in his hands. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. Hours, probably. The Narrator had stopped making snide comments about his lack of action long ago, which Stanley was thankful for. The silence was nice, for once. 

He’d long since lost count of how many times the game had reset, but it had to be over a thousand by now, at the very least. He had explored every inch of the office, every possible path, searching desperately for a way out; he had gone down every path over and over again just to see if anything would change. Nothing ever did. It had been ages since he’d heard the Narrator say something he hadn’t said a hundred times before. Even when Stanley would go to the starry room for the sole purpose of leaping from the top of the stairs and dying, the Narrator’s pleas for him to stop were always the same, word-for-word. 

He wasn’t even sure why he kept going anymore. He barely felt compelled to. But he had no other choice, did he? There was no escape, nothing new waiting for him down any of the routes he could take. He’d managed for a while just by sticking to the paths that didn’t make him feel dead inside, but by now, all of them left him feeling numb and empty. There was a dull ache in his head that never went away; other than that, Stanley felt nothing at all. 

So he made up his mind. He still had one option left: the choice to not choose anything. Stanley decided that’s what he would do. He would sit in the chair in his office (was it even his office? Had this place ever been a real office building?) and simply wait. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but that didn't matter. Perhaps eventually the Narrator would come up with something new to say, or even give up and decide to let him out of the game. Or perhaps eventually Stanley would die, or the both of them would die. At this point, the thought of death was almost comforting. 

He sat there for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time, listening to the sound of his own breathing and the hum of the fluorescent lights outside his office. He vaguely wished that he could fall asleep--he’d tried several times, when he was feeling particularly fed up with the situation, to sleep on the sofa in the employee lounge, but some part of the game's mechanics must have prevented him from sleeping. Not being able to rest, even for a moment, made being stuck in here all the more painful. 

Stanley’s thoughts turned to the outside world, or at least what he remembered of it. His memories had become increasingly vague; if he thought really hard about it, he could remember little things like the way a sunset looked, or the smell of rain. He didn’t remember much about himself other than his name. This had used to upset him greatly, but now when he thought about it, all he felt was a passing flicker of regret. Did he have a job? A house? Friends, family? If he ever had, they were long gone from his memory. Now all he had was the office, and the Narrator. 

Stanley hated the Narrator. At first he’d just been distrustful and a little frightened of him. Then, as time passed, it became more and more obvious that the Narrator didn’t have nearly as much control over the office as he said he did, and that he was possibly even just as trapped there as Stanley was. That had given Stanley hope--perhaps, he had thought, they shared a common goal. Perhaps he and the Narrator could work together to escape. He wished he hadn’t been so optimistic. It was evident now that the Narrator had no desire to leave his precious story behind, and it seemed increasingly likely that he wasn’t a real person at all--he was just some fixture of the game, unable to change or act outside of his programming. Thinking about it made Stanley feel like he’d been betrayed somehow, and cold, bitter anger was all that he felt towards the Narrator now. 

Ironically enough, it was at that moment that the Narrator chose to start speaking again. “Stanley? Is everything all right?” 

That was something he hadn’t heard before. Stanley sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“I’ve left you alone for a while, I figured you wanted a break or something, but it’s been quite a long time, hasn’t it? I don’t think you’ve ever stayed in this room for so long before.” 

_ You’ve never said any of this stuff before,  _ Stanley thought. Hearing something he hadn’t heard a hundred times before was thrilling, and he waited to see what the Narrator would say next. 

When Stanley did nothing to acknowledge what he’d said, the Narrator continued speaking. “I’m trying my best to be considerate of whatever it is you’re doing, Stanley, but don’t you think we should be getting along with the story now?” 

Stanley rolled his eyes in response. 

“What was that for? Surely you aren’t planning on staying in your office forever, it’s terribly dull in there.” 

Stanley shrugged. 

The Narrator sighed. “Really, there’s no point in just sitting there. I’m sure we can find something you’d rather do. You could go through the mind control facility again, that’s always very exciting. Or the employee lounge; if you really want to sit and do nothing, I’m sure that would be a better place to do it. Or--” 

“Make something new,” Stanley burst out, cutting him off. 

“Something new?” the Narrator repeated. “Wait--you  _ can  _ speak? You’ve been able to this whole time? Why didn’t you say so?” 

Stanley clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed. He truly couldn’t speak most of the time, and when he did it was only out of necessity, but he was sure the Narrator wouldn’t understand. 

Seeing that Stanley had no intention of responding, the Narrator sighed. “I suppose it’s none of my business. Anyway, why would I make something new? It’s hard enough to keep track of everything that’s already going on. Besides, isn’t the story enough as it is right now?”

Stanley shook his head.

“Mm. Okay. It’s not enough.” The Narrator sighed again. “Well, there’s not really anything I can do about that, I’m afraid. I can’t just add things to the story as I please, you know. All I’ve got to work with is what’s already here.” 

Stanley looked up at the ceiling with pleading eyes. He doubted very much that he was actually looking in the direction of the Narrator, but he hoped it got the message across. 

“You’re never satisfied, are you, Stanley? Like I said, there’s only so much I can do, but…” The Narrator paused, and Stanley could hear a noise that sounded like fingers tapping on a desk. “I know! Why don’t I open some doors you haven’t been through before? There’s nothing interesting behind any of them, I’ve checked, it's all empty hallways and offices and what have you. But I’m afraid that’s all I can offer.” 

The Narrator sounded almost apologetic. Stanley, on the other hand, was delighted at the prospect of having new areas to explore, and he nodded enthusiastically. 

“All right, then, that’s settled.” The Narrator sounded extremely relieved he’d found a solution. “Hold on for just a moment.” 

Stanley waited anxiously, his mind buzzing with possibilities. Minutes ago, he’d been completely hopeless; now he had more hope than ever. The Narrator was saying and doing things he hadn’t done before--perhaps he wasn’t just a fixture of the game. Perhaps Stanley and the Narrator could work together to find a way out after all. Stanley felt certain that whatever happened next would be a crucial step towards escaping the game for good. Full of determination, he got up from his chair and stepped forward. 

Just as he did so, there was a loud buzzing noise that made him flinch and cover his ears, and before he had a chance to wonder what was going on, he found himself suddenly surrounded by nothing but darkness. 

  
  
  



End file.
